


To die by your side…

by j520j



Series: Don't Starve fics with Music and Illustrations [2]
Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Illustrations, Inspired by Music, M/M, Sad with a Happy Ending, maxwil - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27443806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j520j/pseuds/j520j
Summary: "… is such a heavenly way to die."Angst Maxwell/Wilson - Short fic with illustration!
Relationships: Maxwell/Wilson (Don't Starve)
Series: Don't Starve fics with Music and Illustrations [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2004901
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39





	To die by your side…

He feels cold.

It’s late spring, when he and Higgsbury should already be preparing to build their Endothermic Firepits, and Maxwell feels cold. Perhaps the reason is that he’s lying in a pool of his own blood.

Maxwell lost track of time. How long has he been lying there? Days? Weeks? Perhaps only a few seconds since it was unlikely that he was still alive, bleeding profusely like that, for more than a minute.

The guttural roar, accompanied by the sound of the violent rustle of leaves, made the magician realize that the creature that attacked him was still nearby. The ground shook with each heavy step and the cracking of the wood began to get closer.

Finally Maxwell remembered: he was attacked by the claws of a treeguard. The monster had destroyed his duelist puppet and then went after him. He defended himself with his sword and did great damage to the creature, but not enough to defeat it. On the other hand, it only took one blow from it to rip his clothes, skin, flesh and bones, throwing him on the ground like a rag doll. Unable to get up to defend, he was already dead.

Perhaps not yet, because along with the sound of the treeguard, there was another sound echoing in the middle of the forest: the battle cry of an angry scientist.

Wilson impaled the monster with his spear. Without giving the creature time to turn to attack him, he started to burn it with a torch. The treeguard's howl was of pain, but the scientist was insensitive to the suffering of any sentient being, especially one who had hurt his...

... ally? Companion? Friend? It was still difficult to be sure what relationship Maxwell had with Higgsbury after so many weeks of camping together. They were no longer enemies, that was for sure. But what else were they? Well, not that it matters. The magician could feel his life draining and, whatever bond he had built with the scientist, he would break at that moment.

The sound of logs falling heavily on the ground reverberated through the forest. The creature was dead. The tall man tried to move, but failed. It was difficult to even move his chest to breathe. He could feel something clogging his throat.

"Maxwell!" Wilson shouted, kneeling beside the magician. “Stars, are you okay?! You...?!"

It was obvious that the Englishman was not ok. If he was okay, he’d take the opportunity to throw a jab like ‘you’re not very observant for a scientist’ or anything like that. No, he didn't have the strength for that.

A gentle hand raised his head. The movement helped the magician to breathe, allowing him to expel whatever was clogging his throat. It was blood. He coughed up blood for a few seconds until he was able to gather enough strength to open his eyes. His vision was blurred, as in the days when he needed glasses to see. But even so he can clearly see the dread and concern on the younger man's face.

"Higgsb-*cough*" the taste of iron in the mouth was unpleasant. "H-higgsbury... d-did you... win?"

"Yes..." there was no joy in Wilson's voice. He was still looking at Maxwell with that expression of worry. "I, ugh... don't move, okay? I will take care of these wounds!”

"No...!" the magician said, feeling that breathing was getting harder by the second. "D-don't waste... healing salves... w-with a d-dead man ..."

"Shut up!" Wilson shouted, a mixture of anger and sadness on his voice. "You're not going to die! I can, I...!”

"Too late." the magician glanced at the growing pool of blood that formed beneath his body. Even if he stopped bleeding at that moment, he wasn’t going to survive for more than an hour. "It's… all right."

The scientist opened his eyes wide, still holding the injured man in his arms. The question he couldn't speak was hanging between them.

"It’s ok..." Maxwell's voice was almost a whisper now. "I should have already... be dead-*cough* ... b-b-but dying… b-by your side... it's not so bad..."

After all those years on the throne, Maxwell was sure he would die alone in the darkness. He had no hope that any of those pawns could reach him. Hell, he didn't want anyone to come to him and see him in that state.

Dying like that, in the company of someone with whom, surprisingly, he created a bond of affection, was more than he would dare ask. It was more than he deserved.

"... t-thank you..." he murmured, smiling with blood on his lips. “... the pleasure… the p-privilege was mine…”

One last cough, the death rattle, and Maxwell felt that he was no longer able to breathe.

And soon he felt nothing more.

Wilson stood, holding the body of the man who had been his former enemy in his arms, not knowing what to do.

It seems that he have to be careful what he wished for. In the past, there were countless times when he wished to see Maxwell dead, and now...

And now...

All he wanted to say to that old man: he was an idiot. And that, from then on, he should be safely in the back while the scientist took the front. That he should stay away, protected, warm, safe, while Wilson would do the heavy and dangerous work from now on.

And he _would_ say that to Maxwell when he saw him next time. He’d say that to him screaming, in tears.

The magician's body began to deteriorate rapidly until it became ash and dust, leaving a skeleton of fractured ribs behind. This meant that, somewhere in Constant, he resurrected on some touch stone.

"Haughty asshole...!" the scientist murmured, feeling the tears burn on his cheeks. It was not this time that the magician died for good. In a world where there were meat effigies and life amulets, this kind of fear was minor than it should been.

But this didn’t mean that the scientist would give Maxwell the luxury of dying in his arms again. Never again!

**Author's Note:**

> See my tumblr and Instagram, pals!  
> https://jussara520art.tumblr.com/  
> @jussara520art


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